


Mrs. Beauchamp: Ficlets

by balfey



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 60s, Christmas, F/M, Ficlets, Mrs Beauchamp, Outlander - Freeform, jamie x claire, outlander fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balfey/pseuds/balfey
Summary: A collection of ficlets to complement the complete story "Mrs. Beauchamp"
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 41
Kudos: 267





	1. The Scrooge

**Author's Note:**

> I've uploaded the first three ficlets on the same place as the completed story but I decided to bring them all here as I'll be adding more soon and it's easier, and less confusing, to have them all in one place! Thank you to whoever already read them or are about to.
> 
> Complete story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19473580/chapters/46353958
> 
> More coming soon!
> 
> Ficlet 01 takes place during their first Christmas together! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_Claire was not a very festive person._

She barely celebrated her birthdays and whenever the Christmas season rolled around, she turned into a real Scrooge. It wasn’t for a lack of trying but spending most of her life either on the road or alone, she never grasped the spirit of the holidays. 

She liked the smell of pine, alright. And the taste of eggnog but it was about it. 

Sometimes, she would spend Christmas eve with the Abernathy’s, bringing the children presents and Joe an expensive bottle of wine. But most times, she’d be working at the hospital. After all, even on Christmas people needed doctors. 

_However, this year, Claire wouldn’t be alone._

This year, she’d be off the week in between the 24th and the new year to spend time with a tall red-haired scot who’s love for Christmas was almost contagious. _Even to her._

“Darling, I’m home,” she announced after stepping through the front door. It had been snowing for the past few days in London — the crisp air giving her cheek a crimson colour as if she had been wearing too much rouge and the snowflakes melting on the mink coat she just removed. 

Claire freed her mass of curls from the carefully tied silk scarf around her head and threw her satchel on the stairs, removing her shoes by the same occasion. Usually, Jamie would be teaching at this time of the day but since the school was off — he had the whole house to himself. 

“I’m in the livin’ room, Sassenach!” 

Smiling to herself, she walked towards the living room to find her scot, proudly standing next to a bare tree. He was wearing a horrendous red and green sweater, with some bells knitted onto it. 

Stockings with both their names were hung onto the fireplace and some lights hung from the ceiling. Brightly illuminating the room, already darkened by the low light from the late afternoon. It was only then that Claire noticed the voice of Dean Martin coming out of the record player. 

“Hello,” Jamie said coyly, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You look ridiculous,” Claire smirked, crossing her arms. 

“I look irresistible and ye ken it, a nighean. Plus,” Jamie turned around to grab a matching sweater he then held up proudly, “I got ye one too. After all, ‘tis our first Christmas together, we shall establish traditions.” 

“Oh no,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no.” 

“Oh aye,” he grinned, walking over to her. “‘The colour is gonna suit yer eyes perfectly too.”

“I’m not going to wear a bright red sweater that makes noises when I move, James Fraser,” Claire receded away from him and laughed when her back hit the wall. 

Jamie didn’t bother to respond, instead of stopping just an inch from her, “Look up, Sassenach.” 

Looking up, she noticed the strategically placed mistletoe before looking back at him, again. “You smart bastard — ”

“Credit is given where credit is due,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around her waist. Pulling her closer, his lips captured her own in a routinely manner. Overlapping tenderly. 

“Ye feel verra cold,” he whispered against her lips, smiling. 

“It’s very cold outside, my lad,” Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him again. 

“I made ye some hot chocolate,” he smiled, cupping her cheeks, “Even got some of the marshmallows ye love so much from the grocery store earlier.” 

“Who would have thought I live with Father Christmas himself, uh?” She grinned, playing with the curls down his neck. 

“Weel, I warned ye I liked the holidays, Sassenach,” Jamie kissed the tip of her frozen nose. 

“So, ye’re gonna put yer wee sweater on while I get ye a mug. Then, we’ll start decorating the tree and then…” Jamie let his sentence die as his lips found the soft kiss of her neck. 

“And then _wot_?” She said faintly, leaning against the wall. 

“Then, Sassenach, I’ll ravish ye out of the sweater on this very floor,” he said nonchalantly, nipping at her skin before pulling away from her and handing her the piece of clothing. 

“I have no more arguments,” she grinned, taking the sweater from him. 

“Good,” Jamie kissed her briefly before disappearing into the hall. 

Shaking her head of curls, Claire started to step out of her tweeded trousers and unbuttoning her shirt. If Jamie wanted her to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, she might as well make him suffer a little bit. 

Just wearing the red garment, along with her knickers and her garter belt, Claire sat on the velvet sofa, her legs crossed onto the coffee table. Patiently waiting for her Scottish fudge to bring her a hot chocolate. Music was still playing, the fire crackling. She had to admit the holiday spirit was slowly, but surely, making its way to her, and that was all due to Jamie. 

“One hot chocolate wi’ marshmallows for my —” Jamie stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the mug from his hand. 

“ _Christ._ Sassenach.” 

“What?” She asked innocently, uncrossing and crossing her ankles again. “You wanted me to wear a sweater, did you not?” 

“Aye,” he answered faintly, swallowing. “Aye, I did.”

Claire got up without a word and made her way towards him with a little smirk. He was frozen in place, his eyes following her — undressing her even more so than she already was. She knew the sight of her garter belt was enough to drive him completely insane. 

“So that’s just what I’m doing,” she said, matter of factly, before grabbing the mug from his hands and warming her own onto the warm ceramic. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, kissing his cheek. Without waiting for an answer, she turned around to make her way back to the sofa. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, my love.” 

“No’ a ghost no,” she knew his eyes were glued to her bottom that was embraced perfectly by a cloud of see-through dark lace. 

“I’m drinking this and then we can start on the tree,” she sat down again, making sure to show off her attribute as best as possible. “If that’s alright for you?” 

“Where did ye lose yer trousers, exactly?” He asked, ignoring her question. 

“Somewhere between the need to drive you mad and the want to beat you at your own game, my darling,” she grinned, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

“Ye’re very wicked, Sassenach.” 

“Are you whining that I’m wearing the sweater now? You asked, after all,” her grin broadened. “I only aim to please.” 

“Aye, ye’re pleasin’ me alright —”

“Are you a bit warm, perhaps? Yer cheeks are getting very very red, Jamie.” Claire tilted her head, observing him. “It might be the fireplace.”

“I think ye ken exactly what it is, Sassenach. And ‘tis has nothin’ to do wi’ the fireplace.” 

“No, really, I do not,” she took another sip of hot chocolate and leaned back into the pillows. 

His blue eyes were darkening with lust while his lip flicked up into a smirk as he made his way to her. Slowly _— very slowly —_ as if he was apprehending his prey. 

“Is there something on your mind, lad? You seem a bit lost in your thoughts there —”

“Aye, loads of things.” Jamie stopped in his tracks, before dropping to his knees in front of her. “Seein’ ye with the wee sweater is givin’ me a fair amount of things to think about, mo nighean donn.”

“I’m actually starting to like this thing,” she finished her drink and put the mug away, resting her feet on his chest to prevent him from getting too close. 

His fingers stroked the material of her stockings, his eyes transfixed on her, “I’m glad to hear so.” 

“Are we going to decorate the tree?” She asked, innocently. 

“In a minute.” 

Slowly, Jamie lifted one of her legs in the air and started to peel off one stocking before repeating the process with her other leg. Revealing her porcelain skin, bit by bit, by the same occasion. 

Claire felt a shiver run down her spine and a tingle in the pit of her stomach. However, she wouldn’t give away her arousal just yet. She liked to make him work for it and he never seemed to mind. 

“‘Tis like unwrapping a present,” he smirked against her thigh, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Yer my gift, Sassenach.”

“You are easily pleased, it’s actually very convenient,” she smirked, stroking his cheek. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have gotten you an actual present.” 

“Nah, just wrap yerself in a large red bow and I would be verra happy —”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh at that, “You’re a ridiculous human being. First the ugly sweater and now a bow?!” 

“’Twas just a wee suggestion,” he grinned, opening her legs and running his hands over them. 

“I have to admit I like ye in the sweater verra much as well. Glad I got it for ye.”

Claire’s smile faded from her lips when Jamie’s fingers hooked into her lacy knickers and started to bring them down her legs slowly. The amusement she had about teasing him was turning into lust, blinding her slowly. 

“Now,” Jamie threw the knickers somewhere around the room before taking hold of her thighs and pulling her closer, “I promised I’d ravish ye in front of the fire so I might do just that, aye?” 

“Indeed you promised.”

“And do I ever break a promise, mo ghraidh?” He raised his eyebrows in question, his hands cupping her bottom. 

“Well —” she started, feeling the heat of him against her. 

“Ye know what? Dinna answer that. I ken ye already know the answer,” he grinned and buried his face between her legs, his breath tickling her skin and his lips kissing her most sensitive spot. 

“Oh.” was all she could manage as she leaned back again and closed her eyes for a brief moment as he simply teased her mischievously. 

“Are ye alright there, a nighean?” Jamie came up, looking at her with a grin. 

“Why are you still talking?” She opened one eye to look at him, her remark only making him grin even more. 

“Greedy wee thing,” he chuckled against her, pulling her closer. 

************

“I think I’m starting to like Christmas, after all,” Claire said quietly, her head of curls resting onto his bare chest, her fingers lightly stroking his side. 

They were laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, covered with a plaid and naked bodies tangled together. 

“I think I’m even starting to like that ugly sweater you got me,” she grinned, looking up at him. Said matching sweaters were lying on the floor next to them, after having been hastily removed. 

“Ye _love_ the sweater,” he smiled and leaned to capture her lips. She could still faintly taste herself on his lips and she tried to ignore what sort of things this made her feel. 

“I love you,” she cupped his cheek, bringing his mouth to hers tenderly. “So much,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against his. 

“And I ye, mo nighean donn,” he smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “I wanted to make our first Christmas together special.” 

“Well it has been so far,” she held him close. “And I like the sight of the house decorated, actually. I almost can’t wait to finish the tree.”

“Almost?” He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. 

“It means we’ll have to move from here and the prospect isn’t too appealing to me just now,” she grinned, stroking his cheek. 

“Well, Christmas is tomorrow, we still have some time to finish the tree, Sassenach. I’m no’ in a rush to move, either.” 

“Good,” Claire rolled them over and laid on top of him, the plaid slipping away. 

“Are ye cosy there, Sassenach?” His hands rested on her bum, happily fondling. 

“Very cosy,” she mumbled, hiding her face into the crook of her neck. 

They stayed like this for a while, both warmed by the fireplace and their bodies heating against one another. From time to time, Claire kissed the sensitive skin of his neck and smiled, pleased with herself at the little noises of satisfaction he was making. 

Hours had passed since she had come home, the snow hadn’t stopped falling — depositing a thick layer of white all over London, like a coat. Tomorrow was closer than both had realized until they heard the clock in the hall strike midnight. 

Claire looked up at him, his face illuminated by the fire and the candles in the room. Warmly, she smiled, “Merry Christmas, Jamie.” 

“Merry Christmas, indeed, a nighean,” he smiled in turn, kissing the tip of her nose. 

“Can I give you your present now?” She asked, grinning like a little girl who suddenly loved the holidays. 

“But ye said no’ present,” Jamie sat up slowly, still holding her into his arms. “I dinna get ye anythin’”

“I know, that’s exactly why I said that,” she smirked, wrapping the plaid around her. “I didn't want anything but I couldn’t possibly not get you anything!” 

“Now, that is no’ fair, Sassenach.” He pouted, watching her. 

“Truly, I didn’t need anything at all,” she kissed his lips before getting up and hurting out of the living room. 

“Do not move!” She shouted from the staircase. 

When Claire came back, wrapped in her silk robe, she was holding his wrapped present in one hand and his own robe in the other. 

“Kind of ye to think of me not freezin’ to death after takin’ the plaid away,” Jamie smirked, getting up from the sofa. 

“Of course,” she grinned, kissing his lips before giving him the robe he put on quickly. “Now sit down, it’s present time!” 

“I’m convinced ye lied all along and that ye actually like Christmas, Sassenach,” Jamie chuckled, sitting down again. 

“Well, I like the company I have this year,” she smiled softly, sitting down next to him. 

“I like having you to come home to, no matter the occasion or the time of the day. Knowing that you’ll be here waiting for me, bringing life to this place. It’s a very comforting feeling.” 

Jamie brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, “Aye, I like to know ye could be walkin’ in the door anytime and I like to hear yer posh voice announcing that ye’re home, Sassenach. I haven’t been happier than since I’ve moved here wi’ ye, Claire.”

“You ruined it for me, you know…”

“Ruined what?” He held her hand, his thumb stroking. 

“Being alone,” she smiled, kissing his lips. 

“I used to like it a lot. Doing what I wanted when I wanted to. Never having anyone to talk to or to argue with but the truth is...I love having you around, even if it’s just to share silence with.” 

“What silence? Ye’re always talking or snoring if ye’re no’ conscious,” he teased, grinning. 

“Piss off!” she laughed, kissing his cheek. “Don’t make me keep the present to myself, now.” 

“Fine fine,” Jamie pulled her onto his lap, kissing her cheek, “Give me my present, then.” 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she said again, smiling widely as she presented it to him. It was neatly wrapped in some liberty paper with a blue ribbon around it. Jamie knew exactly that it came from Heywood Hill, his favourite bookstore in London. 

Smiling, Jamie kissed her lips briefly before he opened his present. Carefully not to mess up the wrapping too much, a first edition copy of “A Christmas Carol” revealed itself — covered by a protective transparent paper. 

“Christ, Claire…” He looked at her, eyes wide. “Only six thousand copies were made of this.”

“And I visited Heywood Hill the same day they had received that one so I thought it would be a perfect thing to get you,” she smiled, watching him. 

“Christ, aye!” Jamie grinned, kissing her tenderly. “Thank ye so much, a nighean. I have the perfect place for it, too.” 

Making her move from his lap, Jamie got up and went towards the bookshelf the shared. A mixture of books rested there _— from classics to medical books._ A mixed selection very representative of the owners of these books. There was not really a precise organisation, it was a melting pot of their peculiar tastes combined. 

Jamie carefully put the precious edition one of the shelves and turned around to look at Claire again, “Now ‘tis yer turn, a nighean.”

“I thought you said you didn’t get me anything,” she grinned, crossing her arms. 

“Aye but compared to ye I can pretend something while my face doesna give me away,” he smirked proudly. “Close yer eyes a wee minute.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“No’ to ruin the surprise. Come on, for once please do as ye’ve been told,” he chuckled and waited for her to close her eyes. 

“Fine!” Claire closed her eyes, still chuckling. 

Jamie took her present from behind some of the books and went back to the sofa, sitting down again. He put the box into her hands, “Now ye can open them.”

Claire opened her eyes and looked down at her hands and the wrapped box. She couldn't help but chuckled when she opened a brand new stethoscope. “Oh, darling!” 

“Ye keep sayin’ of yer one isna functioning properly so I thought ye’d do wi’ a new one, Doctor Beauchamp.”

“You thought well,” she smiled, kissing his lips before putting on the ear tips, “Thank you!” 

“Are ye goin’ to try it out?” He watched her happily, smiling. 

“Of course I am,” she grinned, opening his robe. “Careful, it’s going to be cold.”

“A dhia!” Jamie winced as the cold chest piece touched his skin. 

“Sssh,” Claire chuckled and listened to his heartbeat. “Are you alright there, darling? Your heart is racing, my love.” 

“I’m perfectly fine, Sassenach, that’s only yer doin’.” 

“Smooth talker,” she smirked, removing the stethoscope. 

“Can I try it?” He grinned, taking it from her and putting it on. “I wanna listen to yer wee heart too. Though, I already ken most of its secrets.” 

“Suit yourself,” Claire opened her robe slightly and watched him amused as he played the doctor. 

Jamie had a deep frown and a concentrated look on his face as he listened to her heartbeat. She briefly wondered if he knew that her most vital organ had started to function again the minute he had come into her life. 

“Ye know, Sassenach,” Jamie took off the stethoscope and put it away. “My favourite sound is yer heart beating. Whenever I’m falling asleep, I listen to it like a lullaby. I hope ye liked yer wee gift.” 

“I love it,” she said sincerely, smiling. “I love it and I love you. I even love Christmas now.” 

Jamie couldn’t help but grin at that, “I’ve done my job well then, my wee Scrooge.” 

“To be fair, I rather like the name,” Claire chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose. 


	2. A Flirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

Claire Beauchamp was not a particularly insecure person. Firstly because she didn’t have to be. She had been blessed with brain and beauty. Wit and humour and all the component to make one completely enamoured with her after a meeting. She had a trailblazing career as a surgeon — not only being the first woman to practice her craft but also to be the first person to practice a heart transplant. 

Slightly intimidating in posture and grace, she was the type of women other women, and some men, feared. Yet, she never understood why. She never dwelled on that feminine rivalry, either. — she simply had no time nor care for it. But it amused her. Anyone close to her, might they be her friends, her secretary, even her husband, had once mentioned how scary she had been to them before they knew her properly. 

Standing in front of her mirror, in her nightgown, she carefully studied her reflection. She had not much changed in the last twenty years. The only thing noticeable were a few lines around her eyes and a few grey streaks in her hair. 

Her eyes travelled down and stopped on her arm, to the mark she often forgot she had. Anytime her eyes caught the numbers _— fading away with the years —_ a chill ran down her spine and she had to compose herself for a brief second. War time felt like a hazy memory, sometimes. She often wondered if it even happened to her, at all. Then, she remembered: the sights, the smell, the silence...she remembered it all and thanked God she made it out at all. 

Claire quickly cast those thoughts away and looked over her shoulder towards the bed. Peacefully asleep, her husband laid there. Breathing slowly and evenly, the sound like a soothing lullaby to her. She couldn’t help but smile as she made her way towards him. 

If someone had told her she’d marry a man twenty years younger than her, she would have laughed and walked away. But if Claire was sure of something, it was how unexpected life was and when the heart wanted what it wanted, there was no way to escape such a thing. 

Meeting Jamie had been like taking a breath after spending years underwater — trying to come up for air, but never not quite knowing how. He listened to her. Worshipped her. Loved her, all of her. And to make everything better, he wasn’t half bad to look at. With curls of fire and eyes that carried the ocean, he looked like a Celtic God. A Celtic God who had horrendous tastes in tweed jackets but a God, nonetheless. 

And when he slept, he looked like a cherub, all the while his lip flicked up into a content smile. 

Claire couldn’t help stroking a few curls away from his face — her hand twitching at the thought. That only prompted him to smile even more, stirring slowly out of slumber. 

“Mmh, Sassenach,” he said softly, eyes closed and voice hoarse. 

“Good morning,” she said softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“I dinna mind being awakened by yer touch,” he smiled, bringing her hand to his lips. “Being awake doesna mean I have to get out of bed.” 

“That is a very good point you have there, my lad,” she rubbed her nose against his but then got up, “If you fancy getting up, I’ll be downstairs having my tea.” 

“Ye are so British,” he made a face but smirked. “Tea and crumpets wi’ butter and jam.” 

“Do not insult crumpets under this roof or you might get yourself a divorce,” she smirked, “Plus, I might have a thing or two to say about porridge.” 

Jamie sat up, chuckling, “Now dinna insult porridge under this roof or ye might get yerself a divorce.” 

“I love you too, my darling,” she winked, grabbing her robe on her way out of the bedroom. 

Claire was actually buttering her crumpets when Jamie finally made his way down the stairs and into their kitchen. Robe open, bare chest and tartan pyjama bottoms hanging low on his waist. He was followed by the dog, Charlie, who had no interest in neither of them other than his own breakfast waiting for him on its usual spot. The Scot leaned against the doorframe and observed his wife. 

“Enjoying the view?” She asked, not turning around to look at him. 

“Aye, verra much so,” he smiled, walking over to her. He pushed some of her mass of curls to a side and stamped the back of her neck. 

“It’ll never get old, ye ken? Waking up and rememberin’ ye are my wife.” 

“Oh do you forget that little detail rather often?” she grinned, looking at him. 

“No’ I dinna forget it. How could I?” he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“‘Tis just the state of confusion one finds himself right after wakin’ up, ye ken? The same one ye experience when ye canna remember which day it is.”

“You shouldn’t spend so much time in my company, my smart mouth is starting to rub off on you,” she pecked his lips and smiled. 

Jamie didn’t make a comment, he didn’t need to. He simply grinned and took a bite from her crumpet before going to sit down at the table. He started to pour her tea. 

Claire kissed the top of his head before sitting down in turn and pouring his coffee. 

“Do ye have a surgery today, a nighean?” Jamie asked, bring her hand to his lips. 

“No,” she smiled, taking a sip of tea. “I just need to see a couple of patients for check-ups and a couple of appointments, but that shouldn't last too long. I didn’t want to risk missing your book launch tonight.” 

“Dinna remind me,” he mumbled, leaning back. 

“Are you actually nervous?” Claire’s eyes widened. “James Fraser!”

“Of course I’m nervous. ‘Tis my first book and I dinna ken how it’ll be received— ”

“I didn’t throw it at your head when I first read it, I think you’ll be quite all right, my love,” she couldn’t help but smirk, leaning up to kiss him. 

“Aye, thank ye for sparing my head,” he smiled, holding her hand in his. “And for allowing me to tell yer story, Sassenach.” 

“Only because you did it in such a beautiful way, darling,” Claire cupped his cheek, smiling tenderly. “No one ever wrote about me, even less in such a manner. But again, it’s not about the story as so much as how it is written.”

Jamie blushed, then, his boyish ways sliding back in. He couldn’t take a compliment, even less when it came from Claire. 

“Plus, I don’t think your editors would be throwing such a dinner if they didn’t think your book was worth the publicity.” 

“I think ‘it’s the usual way of things, Sassenach.” 

“Keep telling yourself to make it less nerve-wracking for you if you please, I’m gonna get dressed,” Claire finished her crumpet, kissed his lips and got up. 

“Hold on a wee minute,” Jamie grabbed her hand and got up, pulling her close. 

“What is it?” Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Are ye meetin’ me at the party tonight or do we come back here and go together?” Jamie stroked her bottom lip. 

“I’ll meet you there, I don’t think I’ll have time to come back here and get ready so I’ll just change at the hospital and meet you at Claridge’s.” 

“Aye,” he smiled, kissing her lips. “Good, then.” 

************

Claridge’s was situated opposite of town from where the hospital was — and for a brief moment, Claire thought she would be late. Jamie wouldn’t have minded but she would have and very much so. 

Thankfully, the cab driver knew London like the back of his hand and how to get from one side to another without getting caught in the horrendous traffic. 

The hotel, in the heart of Mayfair, was one of Claire’s favourite spots in the city, where she offend came for tea. It wasn’t a coincidence that Jamie had suggested the place to his editors for the party to be held there. 

The cab stopped right at the front and she quickly paid, before getting out. Greeted by the porter, she smiled kindly and asked for the way to the reception. 

“The Foyer and Reading room, ma’am Fraser,” he answered at once, opening the door for her. He didn’t need to indicate where that was, he was aware she knew her way around here. 

She wasn’t the first person to arrive but neither was she the last. Her eyes scanned the room to find Jamie and as soon as they had caught sight of him, her breath hissed. 

A Highlander in full regalia was an impressive sight _— any Highlander, no matter how old, ill-favoured, or crabbed in appearance_. A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favoured young Highlander at close range was breathtaking, to say the least.

The only other time Claire had seen him dressed like that, was at their wedding ceremony. The thought alone was enough to make her eyes water and goosebumps erupt on her skin. 

Jamie had spotted her too, his face illuminated with a warm smile before he took in her appearance. Then, his eyes darkened with lust, scanning her red silk body up and down. And just like that, she realized the dress was very much doing the staggered effect. 

Claire had hesitated approximately seven seconds before buying it. It was red silk, with thin straps and a low cut back. She couldn’t possibly wear a bra with such a garment but decided to add her mink stole. As for the shoes, simple pointy toes black heels. 

“There you are,” she smiled widely, walking over to her husband. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nay,” Jamie wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “No’ late at all, Sassenach.” 

“Oh, good,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his lips. “How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited? ”

“I canna think of anythin’ else but ye in this dress right now, Sassenach. Excited would be a word for it, aye,” he whispered in her ear as his hand slid down her bareback. 

“James Fraser,” she looked at him, eyebrows raised. 

“Aye, Mrs Fraser? What can I do for ye?” He asked, pulling her close. He didn’t care for the people around them, he knew they all had eyes for his wife anyway. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to enjoy the dinner and the party. Then, I’ll make sure you don’t sleep tonight. Sounds all right with you?” She purred in his ear, patting his bum. 

“More than all right, aye,” he rasped, kissing her lips. “Now, go sit, aye? I’ll go and get ye some champagne.” 

Nodding, she kissed him briefly and went towards their assigned table. She put her stole on the back of her chair and sat down, looking towards the bar to look at Jamie. He was waiting for their drinks, leaning against a stool and talking to a woman. 

Claire couldn’t help but grin, at the sight. She knew how handsome her husband was. Young and broad, muscular and charming. He was as gorgeous as he was intelligent and that was enough to attract women. She was not jealous, she had no reasons to be because Jamie only ever had eyes for her. Nonetheless, it was very amusing to watch. 

When Jamie finally got the drinks, he made his way towards the table, along with the woman he had been talking to, “Claire, a nighean.” 

She got up instinctively, smiling politely to the other woman. She was somewhere in her thirsties, dressed in a long black dress with short sleeves with discreet makeup and a very strict hairdo. 

“Darling.” Claire wrapped her arm around his waist. 

“May I introduce ye Juliet Barton, my editor.” Jamie smiled, before turning to Juliet, “And ‘tis my wife, Claire Fraser.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Claire said sincerely, smiling still. 

“Oh, nice to meet you too! It’s nice to finally put a face on a name,” she smiled warmly, almost nervously. 

“Jamie has been telling me so much about you and I have to say, you’re even more beautiful than I already expected!”

“Oh,” Claire chuckled slightly, looking at Jamie. “Well, thank you very much.”

“You are a surgeon, is that right? How fascinating,” Juliet watched her, her smile growing. “What field?”

“Cardiovascular,” Claire took her drink from Jamie’s hand and leaned against him. It didn’t escape her how the editor only had eyes for her, and not Jamie. An occurrence that was true for most of the evening.

Sitting across from Claire, Juliet demanded most of her attention during the entire evening. And when it wasn’t, her eyes didn’t leave her — not even for a second. She seemed fascinated by Claire, transfixed, almost. 

Jamie managed to notice it, too. He was aware of the effects his wife had on other men, but it seemed it almost applied to women too, now. Not that he could blame any of them. Claire seemed flattered alright. Laughing and smiling at Juliet. If he didn’t know any better, the scot could have thought his wife was flirting with his editor. 

“What a lovely evening it was,” Claire mused as they came home. She removed her shoes and stole, as soon as they stepped through the door. 

“You, my dear, are a success,” she turned around to look at him, smiling proudly. 

“Aye, ‘twas a lovely dinner,” he mumbled, removing his jacket and loosening his tie. 

Frowning, she crossed her arms, “Wasn’t it? Why do you look so cross?” 

“I’m no’ cross, Sassenach,” he looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Do I have a reason to be? I dinna ken, maybe my wife being flirted wi’ all evenin’ might have crossed me. Or maybe the fact that she seemed to enjoy it —” 

“What on earth are you talking about? I barely talked to anyone except Juliet.”

“Aye, ‘tis exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” Jamie gave her a look before walking towards the living room.   
  
Quickly, she followed, “Don’t be absurd, Juliet was not flirting with me. She was just being kind.”

“Kind would be one way to put it, Sassenach,” Jamie poured himself a glass of whisky. “Would ye like a dram?”

“Yes as a matter of fact, I’d like a dram,” she sat on the sofa, resting her feet up the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. 

“You can also explain to me why your editor being nice to me is making you fuss so much.” 

“I have enough tryin’ to keep lads away from ye, now I’ll have to be aware of lasses too,” he made a low noise of annoyance deep in his voice as he came towards her, handing her the glass.

“So let me get this straight,” she took the glass, watching him. She couldn’t help the grin on her face as she spoke those next words.

“You think your editor would like to get me into her bed?” 

“I dinna think it, I’m sure of it,” Jamie sat down next to her, looking at her. He had an expression of helplessness all over his face. “I canna blame her but I dinna like it one bit.”

Claire laughed. The thought was flattering but women were not really her cup of tea. “Darling, I don’t think you should worry very much about whose bed I’ll end up in. Other than yours, I don’t want to make my way into any other. I thought you’d knew that.”

“Of course I ken it,” he took her hand. “But I’m still annoyed when people flirt wi’ ye, however tempting a thing it is to do.”

“Do loads of people flirt with me?” She asked, tilting her head with a grin. 

“Too many people flirt wi’ ye, aye. Other doctors, patients, the lad at the bakery. Now if even women start doin’ it, what am I goin’ to do, uh?” Jamie put his glass onto the table once it was emptied. 

“There are a few things you could be doing,” she finished her drink and did the same. “First of which is to stop worrying I’m going to run away with someone else. It’s not very nice to know you don’t trust me —’

“Christ, ye ken I trust ye,” he moved closer to her. “I’m just...afraid.”

“Afraid of wot?” She cupped his cheeks. “You’re my husband, Jamie. Not some little fling I’m going to tire of in a couple of weeks. Either you like it or not but you’re pretty much stuck with me for a good while.”

He smiled then, relaxing, “I like it, Sassenach. I like it verra much.”

“Good,” Claire moved to straddle him, cupping his cheeks. “It’s very flattering that people enjoy my company but the only company I enjoy is yours, my lad. That isn’t about to change, I can assure you.” 

His hands travelled down her back and to her plump arse, which he squeezed happily. “I’m the luckiest lad in the world, a nighean.” 

“Are you now?” She purred, leaning down to kiss his neck. Jamie only responded by a groan. 

“I take this as a yes.”

“Aye,” he breathed out, feeling her hands sneak under his shirt. 

“You know,” she looked up at him, smirking. “I like it when you’re jealous.” 

Jamie couldn’t prevent his laugh at her affirmation, “Ye’re wicked, Sassenach. Ye like to see me suffer, eh?” 

“I wouldn’t say I like to see you suffering, no. I like to know you don’t want to share me with anyone. I like to know how crazy it drives you to see someone else who might want me and overall, I like it when you claim me as yours until the wee hours of the morning.” 

“Is that what ye want me to do, now?” He said softly, his voice hoarse. He pressed her against his arousal. 

“Didn’t I promise you I’ll keep you awake all night, my darling?” She removed his tie and got up. 

“Aye, ye promised.” He swallowed, looking at her. “Ye could do just that here, no?”

Claire shook her head of curls, her whisky eyes full of mischief. 

“To bed, Fraser.” 

“To bed, or to sleep?” He asked, licking his lips. 

_“To bed._ Now.” She threw the tie at him again and disappeared up the stairs. 


	3. Belle-Maman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! I hope wee ficlet will make it a good one for you guys. This one takes place some months after chapter 15. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and stay safe xx

Claire sat in the rocking chair by her bedroom window, smoking a cigarette while lost in her thoughts. It was a particularly lovely autumn day outside, the light warm and the wind crisp. This day had all the components necessary to be agreeable — it had even started well, with breakfast brought to her in bed by Jamie, before they lost themselves in each other’s arms until it was time for lunch. 

Yes, everything would have been perfect if Claire didn’t have to get ready to have dinner with Jamie and his mother. 

The first time they met, it had almost been the last. They had not seen each other since then, either. 

Ellen was aware Jamie and Claire were back together _— living together, for the past few months —_ but that was about all she knew. She had not been down to London until now, nor was she in the know about their recent engagement. Since she would visit Jamie, they thought _— well, he thought —_ it would be a good idea to invite his mother to dinner in a fancy restaurant downtown to break the news gently. 

Claire wasn’t too convinced things would go smoothly, nor was she looking forward to crossing paths with Ellen Fraser again. But she would do anything for Jamie, so she had agreed. 

“I can hear ye thinkin’ from here, Sassenach.” 

The voice came from the other side of the room, belonging to a tall redhead who was smiling mischievously as he watched her.

“Can you now?” she grinned, looking at him. 

“Ye have a glass face, a nighean,” Jamie walked over to her, knelt down, and wrapped his arms around her silk clad waist. 

“And I can tell when ye’re worried, or angry, or when the wheels are turnin’ in that beautiful head of yours.” 

“I was just wondering what I will wear for dinner.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his scruffy jaw. “That’s all.”

“Ye can stay in yer wee bathrobe for all I care.” He nuzzled her neck, smiling against her skin. 

“Yes, because your mother thinks I’m such a respectable lady already.” Claire rolled her eyes and smacked his arse. 

“Ye are a respectable lady,” Jamie looked at her, still smiling. 

“Oh, am I?”

“Aye.” 

He kissed her lips tenderly. “Ye’re a doctor. No’ many women can say this for a start. Oxford University calls ye at least twice a week to get ye back there to teach—”

“I’m old,” she grinned amidst her interruption, kissing his cheek and freeing herself from his grasp to rise and head towards the wardrobe. 

“If she believes that, then she must believe she herself is old too then.” 

Jamie sat on the bed and watched her as she put on her garter belt and stockings. He was already dressed in brown corduroy trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled slightly. 

Claire looked over her shoulder, wild curls pinned up messily over her head. “Don’t you have a friend to introduce to her? Maybe if she falls in love with someone your age, she’ll be off our backs.” 

“Dinna put these images into my head, Sassenach.” Jamie made a face and let himself fall back onto their bed as she chuckled. “No lad wants to imagine their mam’s private life.”

“Your mother is a woman, my darling.” Claire walked over to the bed and straddled him, teasing him along the way. “Whether you like it or not.” 

“Mmh,” was all Jamie answered. His hands rested on her thighs, stroking the smooth porcelain skin exposed. 

“There are a few doctors I could introduce her to. Maybe Harold, from the pediatric department.” She leaned down to kiss his neck, opening a few buttons of his shirt. “Or Elliot, one of our interns,” she mumbled against his skin as she kissed down his chest. 

“Sassenach…” 

“Wot?” Claire asked innocently, looking up at him. 

“Ye ken _wot_.” Jamie leaned up on his elbows. “If ye start this now, we will never make it to dinner with my mam.” 

“Maybe that’s what I was getting at?” she grinned and leaned up to kiss his lips. 

Jamie couldn’t help but smile, stroking her cheek. “The sooner we go, the sooner it’ll be done and she can get back to Scotland wi’ the next train.” 

“You are right there.” She kissed his Adam’s apple and got up. “I’ll make sure to ravish you tonight.” 

Sitting up, he buttoned up his shirt again and smirked. “Aye, ye will.” 

Claire went back to the wardrobe and picked up a fitted grey dress, belted at the waist. It wasn’t too casual nor too dressed-up. It also didn’t reveal too much skin, which she was sure Ellen Fraser would appreciate. She added a matching cardigan and Ferragamo black mid-heeled shoes. 

“How do I look?” she asked, tapping some lipstick lightly on her cheeks to give them a flush. 

Jamie smiled, rising from the bed. “As lovely as ever, mo nighean donn. Come here.” 

He took her hand and pulled her close to him. He stroked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed the tip of her nose. “Dinna fash, aye? No matter how this dinner goes, it won’t change anythin’.” 

“I know that.” She cupped his cheek, smiling tenderly. “I would just like your mother to like me. Or, at least, tolerate me.” 

“She will, if ye give her a chance to know ye. She willna have a choice to tolerate ye if she wants to keep seein’ me. After all, ye’re goin’ to be my wife.” 

“Your wife,” she teased, making her way out of the bedroom to head downstairs. “I do like the sound of that.” 

“So do I,” he grinned, following her. 

***********

Wiltons Restaurant was not very far from their little abode in Notting Hill — it was also a spot Jamie and Claire liked to dine at, once every few days. The food was delicious, the atmosphere peaceful, and the cocktails to die for — the last fact being a helpful one, since Claire believed she’d need a few drinks to handle her soon-to-be mother-in-law. 

“After ye, a nighean.” Jamie opened the door for her and managed to kiss the back of her exposed neck as she passed by him. 

Claire smiled and waited for him inside, taking his hand as he joined her. 

Together, they followed the waiter towards the table where Ellen Fraser was sitting, a little further in the back of the restaurant. 

Ellen got up immediately as they reached the table and hugged her son tightly. “Hello, a leannan.” 

“Hi mam.” Jamie didn’t have any choice but to let go of Claire’s hand and hug his mother back. “‘Tis good to see ye.” 

“‘Tis good to see ye too,” she smiled tenderly and patted his cheek. “Are ye well? Ye seem thin.”

“I’m verra well, thank ye,” he smiled and turned to Claire, holding out his hand to her. “Mam, ye recall Claire.” 

It wasn’t a question, much more an affirmation. The trio was well aware that the last time they were together, things went awry. However, both Jamie and Claire hoped Ellen had enough decency not to mention it. 

“Aye, of course, I recall,” she nodded, smiling politely. “Claire.”

“Mrs. Fraser,” Claire smiled in turn and squeezed Jamie’s hand tightly. There was a peculiar thing about Claire that was more visible when she stood next to other people. It was something her younger lover never failed to notice — a sort of aura of confidence most people didn’t have. It was particularly noticeable right now.

“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long,” she added, removing her trench coat. 

“Nay, I just arrived,” Ellen reassured her and sat down again, waiting for them to join her. “‘Tis a nice place,” she said, looking around. 

“Aye, ‘tis Claire’s favourite place,” Jamie smiled, sitting down once he made sure his fiancée was sitting. 

“Quite expensive too,” Ellen remarked, looking through the menu. 

“There is a lovely place to have fish and chips around the corner. Quite cheap,” Claire smiled at her. “We can go there if you’d rather?” 

The other woman’s nostrils flared out before she forced a smile. “‘Tis fine.”

Claire looked at Jamie briefly before plunging her nose in the menu — one she knew by heart, anyway. 

“How are ye doin’, mam? Did ye enjoy goin’ around the city today?” 

“Oh, aye aye. I canna wait to go back home, though. Nothin’ like the fresh sweet air of Scotland…ye ken the one I’m talkin’ about. The one ye love so much and ye wouldn’t trade for the world.” She shot a quick look at Claire before turning back to the menu in her hands. 

“Aye, I ken the one,” Jamie admitted, taking Claire’s hand under the table.“But I’m verra glad to call London my home now, and I dinna plan on stoppin’ anytime soon.” 

“Ye can teach at home, lad. Edinburgh isna far from Lallybroch at all, and ‘tis what ye always intended to do before—”

“Twas my plan before I met Claire, aye,” he finished for his mother. “But plans dinna always go the way one intended, mam.” 

“I was just sayin’, is all,” Ellen put her menu down and took a sip of water. 

The waitress appeared and stood by their table, notepad in hand. “Did you decide on your orders?” 

“I’ll take a plate of oysters,” Claire exclaimed, closing her own menu. “And a glass of Sauvignon blanc, thank you.”

“We’ll share the oysters,” Jamie smiled, handing her his and Claire’s menus. “Just make it a Muscadet blanc for me, thank ye.” 

“I’ll just take the salmon,” Ellen added, handing the waitress her menu. “And more water, thank ye.” 

Silence fell at the table as soon as the waitress disappeared with the menus and orders. There was an uneasiness that was familiar to Claire the one she had shared with Ellen during her first _— and only —_ visit to Lallybroch. 

It was an odd thing to navigate a conversation with a person she was aware couldn’t stand her, for no other reason than her age difference with her son. Usually, she would have sent someone like Ellen Fraser to hell; but for Jamie’s sake, she was determined to be polite and make it work. 

“How long are you planning on staying in London? I’ve got the rest of the week off at the hospital, we could go shopping together?” 

Ellen blinked and looked at her, quite surprised. “Two more days…I’m afraid I dinna need any new pieces of clothing, but thank ye for yer offer.”

“There are also beautiful museums to visit, if you’d rather? Or we could simply walk around the city and have a coffee. I’d like to get to know you better, Mrs. Fraser.” 

There was a long pause before any answer came. Jamie had shifted in his seat, his eyes carefully studying his mother who sat in front of him. But before anyone could add anything else, Jamie dropped the bomb. 

“We’re gettin’ married, mam.” 

“Married…” Ellen said softly, her voice barely audible and her eyes wide with shock. 

“Aye,” Jamie looked at Claire, his eyes shining in a way almost made her want to weep. 

“When did tha’ happen?” his mother asked, shattering the bubble of intimacy they shared. 

“A few days ago, “ Jamie smiled warmly, bringing Claire’s hand to his lips. 

“Ye’re no’ wearin’ any ring,” Ellen pointed out, looking suspiciously at Claire’s left hand. 

“No, an engagement ring isn’t the most practical thing to wear when I do surgeries and I don’t want to lose it by removing it all the time.”

“I got her a new scalpel, instead,” Jamie grinned proudly and kissed her cheek. 

“How sweet of ye, a leannan,” his mother said, almost through gritted teeth. 

“We’d like to marry in the spring, and we’d be very happy if you’d join us for the ceremony,” Claire added, looking at her. 

“Are ye no’ going to get married at Lallybroch?” Ellen asked, her own demeanour suddenly shifting; as if not marrying at Jamie’s childhood home was worse than marrying a woman twenty years older than him, in her mind. 

Jamie and Claire looked inquisitively at one another before he turned to his mother again. “Weel, we dinna thin t’was an option, mam. The last time ye saw Claire, things didn’t go quite…weel, _ye ken_.” 

“I apologised for that,” Ellen raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. 

“Aye but ye’ll have to do a wee bit more than apologisin’ to make Claire feel welcome, don’t ye think? Ye didn’t even apologize to her but to me, and over the phone.”

“Ye’re right,” she looked at him apologetically before turning towards Claire. “‘Tis wasna very wise of me to whisk ye away back then, nor to mingle in affairs that werena my own.” 

“Jamie, a leannan,” she touched his hand softly, “Ye’re grown enough to ken what ye want and ‘tis no’ my place to interfere.”

“Thank ye mam,” Jamie said sincerely, squeezing her hand. 

“However—”

Jamie and Claire looked at one another, worry creeping back on their faces. 

“Tis out of the question that ye’re no’ getting married at Lallybroch, is all,” she said simply, taking a piece of bread from the basket in front of them. 

“Do you mean, you don’t mind us getting married then?” Claire asked, unable to hide the smirk forming on her lips. 

“I may no’ always agree wi’ the choices my son makes, but marriage is serious. If he wants to spend the rest of his life wi’ ye, I ken he thought about it long enough to believe ‘tis what he wants to do. ‘Tis no’ me who will tell him otherwise. God forbid, Frasers are too stubborn to listen anyway.” 

“Indeed, we are,” Jamie smirked at his mother, who couldn’t help but soften. 

Claire reached up and touched her hand in a warm gesture, “Thank you, Ellen.” 

It was right there that Ellen Fraser’s face finally lit up. Her lips flicking up into a sincere smile, “Welcome to the family, Claire.” 


	4. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's memories from the war haunt her at night. Jamie is there to comfort her.

_Nightmares of war had slowly disappeared as the years had gone by._

Yet, sometimes — sometimes, they’d creep back up into Claire’s subcontinent. Grabbing her by surprise as slumber peacefully enwrapped her. 

As a child, as a teenager and as a young woman, she could count on one hand the times she had dreamt altogether. Or at least, remembered what those dreams — _and sometimes nightmares_ — were all about. 

Even during the first war years, her imagination had never been powerful enough to conjure vivid visions during a night’s sleep. And the exhaustion of her work at the frontline as a nurse made her sleep like a rock. Then, at the camp, her nights were mostly spent awake, relishing in the rare silence of where she found herself. A silence lullabied by breaths and heartbeats of the other women sharing whatever they tried to pass as “a room”. 

When the war ended, sleep had lost the solace it used to have. Whenever those whisky eyes shut, they’d see those images again. She’d hear the screams, the bombs and guns. She’d smell the rotten flesh and the blood. And whenever she could sleep, she’d wake up in a panic, clutching herself to make sure she was still in one piece. 

In Boston, busy with medical studies and trying to ignore the anger of the men who shared her classroom, she had pushed away the thoughts of war and immersed herself into the work to become the best doctor she could be. Shaping a career for herself — given it was the last thing she had. 

So with the years, the nightmares left and the memories that remained were stored in a place her mind could avoid _most_ of the time. Joe knew what happened to her and until she met Jamie, she had never revealed it to anyone else. She had live with that secret, one she was almost ashamed of. One that came back to haunt her at night. 

But time passed, and like everything in life, time soothed the wounds of the heart and of the soul. They did not disappear but they didn’t control her life like it used to. 

That night, Claire had fallen asleep rather easily. Wrapped in her husband’s arms, in the comfort of their bed. Safe was how she would describe the way she felt. Protected and completely at the mercy of the man she loved. 

But that night, the nightmares came back. They always did around this time of the year. The time circling back to the day the camp had been liberated by the American army. An army who could not believe what they were seeing. Couldn’t believe the devastation humans could do to other humans. 

_She saw them again._

The piles of bodies scattered around the place like simple decoration. The fence standing too high to attempt hiking over it to escape. A fence she was leaning against when the army arrived. It was scorching hot that day, she was sweating in her striped robe and yet, she shivered. Both from fear and months of malnutrition. 

She remembered no one dared to do a thing — not knowing why the Americans were there. Not knowing what was going to happen to them. What if it would turn out to be as terrible as what they have survived all this time? It was still relatively quiet. No one moved. _No one spoke._ Only the footsteps of the soldiers could be heard.

_No one dared to utter a word._

Waking up before her vision could continue, Claire laid still, her breaths coming out short, a weight pressing over her chest. It took a moment to remember where she was. To remember who she was with. The room was dark, Jamie’s naked body was a furnace against her own. As much as she wanted fresh air, she couldn’t bring herself to move away from the safety of his arms. 

“Are ye awake, Sassenach?” she felt a whisper against her hair, while his arms tightened around her waist. 

Looking up, she could only make up the lines of his face. Lit by moonlight and known by heart to her eyes. She could tell his eyes were half-open, submerged by slumber. 

“Did I wake you?” She asked softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“Aye,” he kissed her temple, smiling against her skin. “Ye kicked me in the ribs.”

“I hope you know I did not mean to do that,” Claire moved closer to him under the cover, feeling a shiver slid down the duvet.

“I’m sorry,” she kissed his chin. 

“Ye’re a strong wee thing, a nighean. I’m gonna have a bruise now.” 

“I’m sure you will,” she chuckled softly, holding him close. “I’ll take care of you myself, I promise.”

“The perks of bein’ married to a doctor ye ken,” Jamie smiled, stroking her hair back. 

“I wouldn’t know, I married a writer who thankfully doesn’t kick me in the ribs during the night.” 

“Consider yerself lucky then,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “Did ye have a bad dream?”

“Yes but don’t you worry, I’m all right,” she shifted in his arms a little, her nose pressed against his neck. 

“‘Tis fine if ye’re not, Sassenach,” he cradled her head, holding her close. 

Claire couldn’t prevent the smile that escaped her lips at that moment. That was the thing about James Fraser, he never did make her feel as if her feelings were not right. Quite the contrary. No matter how she was feeling — happy, frustrated, sad — he encouraged her to embrace it. 

“I’ll go and make myself a tea,” she looked up at him, though she could barely see. “Go back to sleep, darling.” 

Jamie gestured towards his bedside table and turned on the little light, blinding them both briefly in the process. 

“Maybe I’d like one too,” he smiled coyly, kissing the tip of her nose. “Dinna move.” 

“Well then,” she returned the smile, curling around the duvet once more. 

Getting up in his birthday suit — _much to her eyes enjoyment_ — the scot grabbed his robe from the chair near their bed and put it on. Smiling at her as he did so. “Camomille?”

Claire shook her head of curls, smiling. 

“Peppermint, then,” Jamie said, knowing her order by heart. Delicately, he took her hand and leaned down to place a kiss on the inside of her arm. On the inked piece of skin she always wanted to rip off of her. 

He didn’t need to say anything. Neither of them did. With just a look and the brush of his lips, he made her feel better. 

He smiled. 

She smiled in return. 

And in a second, Jamie was out the room, on his way to haunt for tea. And Claire leaned back into bed, surrounded by the silence of their room. 

She didn’t know for how long her eyes closed, lids heavy with unleashed sleep — her mind blank, peaceful. But when she heard the familiar footsteps, they opened again. 

Jamie stood by the door frame, tray of tea and biscuits in hand. His hair ruffled and his cheeks reddened by sleep. He was so beautiful, it broke her heart. 

“Tea for my lady,” he smiled, sitting next to her and putting the tray in between them. “Wi’ biscuits of course because, and I quote here: tea without biscuits is like Jamie wi’out Claire.”

“Who are you quoting here?” She chuckled, taking one of the mugs. 

“A drunk ye said that once,” he grinned, leaning against the headboard. “Remember yer birthday at the pub? We came back in the early hours and ye wanted tea.” 

“How do you even remember that? You were as pissed as I was.” Her eyebrow rose in question as she blew on the boiling beverage in her hands. 

“Elephants dinna forget, a nighean,” he chuckled, taking his own mug. 

“Good to know,” she shook her head and dunk half her biscuit in the tea before biting it. 

“Claire?” His hand rested on her leg, the tip of his fingers stroking her porcelain skin. 

“Yes?” She looked up at him, brown meeting blue. 

“Do ye want to talk about it? Ye ken I’m here if ye need an ear.” 

“It wasn’t a nightmare, darling,” she took another sip of tea before putting the cup on the bedside table. “Just memories. They come up, sometimes.” 

“Aye,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tip of her fingers, warm from the tea. 

“I ken ye dinna like to talk abou’ it, or think abou’ it really. I canna even imagine how difficult it must be to carry those memories wi’ ye and still keepin’ a decent amount of normalcy. I’m in awe of ye.” 

Claire shrugged, closing her eyes as her head rested against the wall, “It’s not a question of being brave, darling. Everybody was brave, you had to be.” 

“Ye feel guilty, don’t ye?” 

“Yes,” she said then opened her eyes to look at him. “As a matter of fact, I do feel guilty.”

Jamie moved closer to her, her hand still in his, “But why?” 

Resting her head against his shoulder, she played with his wedding band, “Because I know I was able to survive and make it out only because one of the guards took a liking at me.” 

“Someone showin’ ye kindness, if we can even call it so, doesna suppress what ye had to put up with there, Sassenach. Nor the fact that once the war ended, ye decided to keep livin’ and no’ let your experience crush ye.” 

“I did have dark days,” she admitted in a low voice.

“At first I was too weak to do more than rest but once I started to get better and I decided to leave for Boston, I wasn’t myself. I had to learn to simply exist again. I’m glad I decided to go to medical school, it did give me a purpose.” 

“Ye were always meant to heal the sick, Claire,” he kissed the back of her hand. “Ye ken how many lives ye saved, eh?”

“I haven’t kept count, no,” her lip flicked up at the thought. 

“I canna fathom what ye went through...I ken the stories, of course. What the history books tell us but aside from it, I canna imagine the pain and the fear ye, and so many others, went through. The things ye saw and heard…” he let his sentence die. 

“Nay, I canna imagine,” he looked at her, lifting her chin to make her look at him. 

“But I can listen to ye, if ye need me to. Or I can simply hold ye close in silence when ye have a nightmare or ye feel overwhelmed.” 

Claire cupped his cheek, resting her forehead against his. The truth was...she had never allowed herself to think about the war until the day she had told Jamie her secret. Joe was enough of a friend not to ask her about it and she never found another soul she wanted to confide in until she met her Scottish husband. 

“What have I done to ever deserve you, uh?” she smiled, rubbing her nose against his. 

”There is no need to ask such a question,” Jamie held her close, kissing her temple. “I’m the lucky one here.” 

“Hush,” she kissed his lips before snuggling up close to him. 

“Have ye ever gone back to the village in France?” He drew patterns on her back.

“No, I often thought about it but I can’t bring myself to do it. It must have changed drastically anyway.” 

“Aye, maybe it has,” Jamie held her close and kissed the top of her head. 

“You know…there were happy moments during the war. It’s difficult to fathom when we talk about that time but people were still people. When I first arrive at the village, I recall the children playing in the town square. Their laughs echoing with the chatter of the women who talked all together. People still fell in love, they still danced at home. A lot of bad happened during those five years, too many losses but a lot good happened too. All the good we’ll never know about but that doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.” 

“‘Tis what makes ye special, sassenach,” he cupped her cheeks, his eyes locking with hers. 

“The way ye see the world and the way ye can pick out the best of it — no matter the situation. Or even in people. Ye seem to bring out the best in them. Myself included.” 

“You’re starting to talk nonsense, I think we should go back to sleep,” she smiled, kissing his cheek. 

“Aye, let’s get back to sleep but ye ken it as much as I do that it isna nonsense. ‘Tis just the truth.” 

Together, they laid down again. Limbs tangled, bodies wrapped in the duvet. Claire smiled, cupping his cheeks, “I do love you, James Fraser.” 

“I thank Christ every day that ye do, Sassenach,” he closed the distance between them and sealed their lips together for a long time. 

“Every day,” he whispered, holding her close. 


End file.
